


I need you, though

by gendryw4ters



Series: tumblr drabbles and prompts and things and such [6]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, M/M, Post-War, george just wants him home, i suppose? the ending is perhaps ambiguous maybe, ron can't stay put, written for a tumblr prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:05:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gendryw4ters/pseuds/gendryw4ters
Summary: "I’m… I’m going, George.”Luz doesn’t look up from his cereal. He’d known this day was coming, had known it since they’d first- well, not since they’d first met, but since they’d first gotten together, at least. The fact that he’d even convinced Ron Speirs to move in with him in the first place had been a minor miracle in itself.





	I need you, though

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: I need you, though - LuzSpeirs
> 
> i hope! i got the characterisations right, this isn't a pair ive ever written for before but i was excited to give it a go!
> 
> unbetad, no disrespect intended- based on the fictional portrayals from the show <3

"I’m… I’m going, George.”

Luz doesn’t look up from his cereal. He’d known this day was coming, had known it since they’d first- well, not since they’d first met, but since they’d first gotten together, at least. The fact that he’d even convinced Ron Speirs to move in with him in the first place had been a minor miracle in itself.  

_“You don’t have to be alone.”_

_“It’s easier that way.”_

_“Is it?”_

Lipton had always warned him that Speirs was a difficult man to pin down. Ordinarily, George would have laughed- informed him that actually, with the right kind of mood lighting and maybe a glass of wine or two, Speirs was a very easy man to pin down indeed. But there wasn’t any laughter today. This time was not like the others.

Ron wasn’t going to visit friends, or family. He wasn’t running away to spend some time on his own in the country, or a big city- picking the pockets of careless businessmen solely for the thrill of it.

He was going to war.

Again.

“Are you- do you not even want to say-”

“What’s the point?”

He could kick himself for being so cold. Wishes he could bring himself to be anything but.  

The fridge rattled as the front door slammed shut, and then the house was silent- save for the gentle _clink_ of George pushing his cereal around with the tip of his spoon.

_Go after him,_ a voice in his head urges.

_Don’t bother,_ another counteracts.

He glances at the clock above their oven.

_His_ oven now, he supposes.

8:03am.

Ron’s train would arrive in twenty-seven minutes. It would leave in roughly thirty.

They hadn’t been the two most obviously suited to each other by any means. George was loud, and warm. Open. Speirs, on the other hand, was anything but.

But they had found each other; in the frostbitten foxholes of Bastogne, in the darkened corners of Haguenau- they had found each other.

Continued to do so in Austria; when time was on their side. Began to learn a little more about one another besides who could make the other moan the loudest, or who could have the other gasping for more the quickest (though these were both things that they had discovered there too).  

Ron had learned that George could be quiet, could be patient. Could listen, and be serious when he needed to be. George could comfort him like nobody else had ever been able to before- not with vapid words or empty promises, but with subtle touches; featherlight, and full of feeling.

Ron in turn had taught George that he could have fun- and that he could be warm and soft and _vulnerable_. He had let George take a bite; get a taste of what life could someday be like for him. _Them_.  

The two of them, Ron and George; honest and open and _together._

But then the war had ended, and they had returned home mere shells of the men they’d once been- the life they once had dreamed of seeming somehow even further away there than it had done back on the shores of Lake Zell.

And oh, George had longed to take another bite of Ron. Longed for the sweetness of the life they’d been promised to fill his mouth once more- for it to wash away the bitterness of stale cigarettes and one too many restless nights and replace it with the sticky haze of golden Austrian sunsets, and the faint but pretty scent of wildflowers on the breeze.

But Ron had never let him.

He glances at the clock again. 8:09am. Twenty-one minutes. Twenty-four.

_Go after him._

And so he does.

* * *

Eighteen minutes.

Speirs sighs, glances up from his watch to take in the scenes unfolding around him. He’s sat atop of his suitcase. Alone.

He watches a young couple kiss each other goodbye. Mothers enveloping children as they hopped off of their trains and into their outstretched arms. _Must be returning from school_ , he thinks. Remembers the children that he’d once talked about with George. Wishes so hard that he hadn’t.

Sixteen minutes.

Slender fingers close around his right wrist, and he jumps at the contact.

“Don’t go.”

_George._

“I- I have to,” he answers firmly, though his throat feels thick- like it’s closing up. Does he have to? He thinks he does, but-

“No, you don’t.”

“I- they- the army needs me-”

“ _I_ need you though, ever think about that?”

_Oh_ , Ron thinks. He hadn’t.

“I- George, I can’t just… You know I can’t-”

“Settle? Fine, then let’s not settle,” the other lets go of his wrist to throw his hands into the air in a fit of desperation. “Let’s not settle- let’s never settle. We can travel, we can live out of fucking boxes, I don’t care, but don’t go- you’re not… You’re not going.”

Eight minutes.

“I have to, George,” he repeats like a mantra, though it’s weakening by the second. It had seemed so obviously the right thing to do, the second he’d been contacted about joining up again all of those weeks ago. He’d told George right away that he was going. His mind at been made up. He had to feel useful again.

“No, you don’t. You think you do- but you don’t- you have to- you have to stay here, for once. For once in your life, stay here, with me,” George pauses, his eyes glistening. A hand comes up to cup Ron’s cheek, the pad of a thumb swiping away at tears that Ron hadn’t even realised were falling. “Please.”  

Five minutes.

Four minutes.

_Three._

_Two._

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> much love <3


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